


Call me Gi

by lestrahdle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Femlock, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Nonbinary Character, Unilock, femcroft, femstrade, mystrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 16:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13791273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lestrahdle/pseuds/lestrahdle
Summary: Gregorie Lestrade is a fourth year criminology student at Kings. While planning her spring break trip to Dublin with her friends Sam Donovan and Annie Dimmock, she gets a bit distracted by the gorgeous redhead across the room. But she's not looking for anything serious, right? And oh yeah, don't call her Gregorie; she goes by Gi.





	Call me Gi

**Author's Note:**

> I have been looking for more fem!mystrade fics and can't find many (please send if you know of some) so I thought I'd add to the mix. If you like where this is going, leave a comment or kudo. I'm excited about what I have planned for this one.

The sounds of calloused fingertips sliding over steel strings. Soft hums accompanied the gentle plucking pattern, total focus on the rhythm, the chord progression, the shift to the bridge. Eyes closed, brow furrowed, tongue out and curling over her upper lip in concentration. Her right hand curled back to move to a gentle strum as she hummed the bridge, a bit louder now.

Gregorie Lestrade - she goes by Gi - was laying back on her bed, one foot on the mattress with the other leg crossed over her raised knee, her foot mindlessly tapping to the beat. Her fingers slipped on the chord progression, she grunted, reset her fingers, plucked each individual string to her satisfaction and began strumming again. 

Her room was a mess. The bed was covered in t-shirts from two days ago, trying to find something to wear. Every surface was covered in books and sheets of paper of varying topics, some with chord charts scrawled on the margins of notes from class.

She’s studying criminology at Kings in her second semester of her fourth year. Her student sanctioned flat was available for two, but only had one current occupant. It’s not that she was hard to live with, she just had bad luck with flatmates. They either dropped out of school, moved home, or there was one that moved in with her boyfriend. 

On the wall opposite her bed, a loud bang sounded to jostle her out of her strumming. Her guitar was plugged into the amp on the adjoining wall and she may or may not have left it on a louder than a socially acceptable volume for a weekday evening. She slammed her palm over the strings to stop the vibrations, huffing and slamming the heel of her foot against the wall in response. 

“Prick,” she grunted, swinging her legs off the bed and sitting upright. She switched off the amp, placing her guitar back in its case and carefully latched it closed. She grabbed her mobile from the bedside table and glanced at the new messages. One from Sam.

_Where r u?_

Glancing at the time, Gi cursed under her breath and did a quick spin about the room, looking for the essentials - wallet, keys, leather jacket, doc martens. She stood on one foot as she pulled on one boot, leaving the ties undone, as she thumbed a response to Sam. 

_fuc off beauty takes tiem_

_Damn typos_

She switched balance to slide on the other boot. A quick glance to the mirror showed her hair in rough shape. She combed her fingertips through her shoulder-length grey hair, glancing around to see if there was a hairbrush close by to snatch. Nope. Finger-comb it was.

Her hair went grey just as she hit 20 and she decided to bite the bullet and just dye the rest to match. Her roots were a spatter of dark brown and salt and pepper grey, the texture changing from her blessedly smooth and thick locks to a coarser bit toward the ends. 

A new text alert from Sam sounded. 

_We don’t have that kind of time. Get on the tube, git._

Gi was meeting her friends Sam and Annie at the local pub to go over final travel plans for spring break. 

Sam Donovan and Annie Dimmock were an anomaly. They used to date, moved in together, broke up, but remained friends and even platonically set the other up on dates. 

Sam and Gi met when Sam was living down the hall their first year. Gi’s amp was too loud one night and Sam stormed down the hall, their face flushed with anger and the anticipation of unwanted confrontation. They banged on the door, yelling, “Do you know what bloody time it is?!” 

Gi, smug as she was, leaned against her doorframe, guitar slung behind her back and quirked up a smile as she replied, “Have any requests, neighbor?” The rest was history. 

Annie came into the picture later. They were all in the criminology bandwagon with Scotland Yard being the dream. After a group project and 18 continuous hours in a lab, they were inseparable. 

They all have their own interests that somehow overlap. Sam is an audiophile, always digging through the bargain bins at vinyl shops and talking about the best deal they got. Annie is on a music scholarship, she plays the flute, and despite the relentless teasing she gets, Gi and Sam always attend her recitals. 

Sam is nonbinary, Annie is pan and Gi is bi. Sam is the one who mediates the friendly bickering between Gi and Annie on the differences - Annie insisting Gi is also pan, but unnecessarily refuses to identify as so. It’s all in good fun, they respect differences and identities, but Gi loves to claim Annie is in love with cast iron skillets. 

They have their own lives separate from one another, too. Sam volunteers at the local animal shelter and they also participate in basically every awareness run London has to offer. Gi is pretty active in the women’s rugby team. Annie is the token nerd, heard frequently shouting on her live streams playing Call of Duty. 

They have about a month off for spring break this term and planned to go away for just a week. Their senior year guilt got the better of them and they decided to spend the rest of break studying for their final exams and presentations. Except Gi, she was planning on visiting home for at least a week. 

Gi made it to the pub only twenty minutes late, pushing through the first set of doors and shaking off the rain from her leather jacket. She shook out the excess rain droplets from her hair and pushed through the second set of doors, her eyes immediately scanning the room. It was crowded for a Thursday.

She stood on her tiptoes, searching over the crowd for Sam’s black curls - the tallest of the bunch. Then it was almost like a movie. The crowd parted and Gi gulped as she set her eyes on her. 

She was _gorgeous_. Long red hair, corkscrew curls a bit frizzy, pulled back and wrapped in a bun with a dozen pins, stray curls popping out in various directions. The light reflected off her pale complexion, freckles visible even from across the room. Her lips were red from biting them in concentration. She was sitting on a tall stool, perched in front of her laptop, one leg tucked under her, her foot clad in an oxford loafer bounced rhythmically. 

They were at a pub that was in between at least a dozen universities. Gi herself had spent quite a few nights writing papers at the pub, so it wasn’t unheard of. It was only half seven. 

She had khaki cigarette trousers, a white blouse, and an oversized navy blazer, cuffed just below the elbow. The table was covered in books, academic and otherwise. In the corner of this loud pub, this woman was completely unfazed, focused, zeroed in on whatever assignment she was working on, occasionally drumming her fingers along the side of her glass of whiskey beside her. There was a basket of chips forgotten about atop her tower of books. 

Who _was_ she?

“Oi!” a familiar voice and slap on the back knocked her out of her gawking. She turned to see Sam smiling down at her, wide eyes only bigger behind round wire rimmed spectacles. “Good of you to finally turn up!” 

“Yeah,” Gi replied, glancing over her shoulder to catch another glimpse of the redhead. Sam didn’t seem to notice, tugging Gi in the opposite direction.

“C’mon, we’re over here,” they said, weaving in and out of the crowd to a standing table near the window. Annie waved, wrapping Gi in a side hug and kissing her temple. 

“Nice of you to finally turn up!” Annie echoed Sam’s earlier jibe. 

“Ugh, deja vu,” Gi grunted, squeezing Annie round the hip. Her eyes lit up at the sight of chips in the center of the table, a pint also already ready for Gi. “Cheers!” she grinned, taking a gulp of her cider and a greedy handful of chips. 

“What were you even doing anyway?” Sam asked, taking a sip of their pint and raising an accusatory eyebrow at Gi. 

“What’s that look, then?” she retorted with a snort. “Lost track of time. I’m _sorry!_ Do I need to grovel?” 

“You’re here now,” Annie said with a smile, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Time to finalize the travel agenda.” She dug through her bag and pulled out the largest binder Gi had ever seen. It made a loud thump as it hit the table, papers oozing out of it and scattering across the table onto the floor. 

Gi quickly snatched one up, clearing her throat dramatically. “Hm, yes, quite right,” she grumbled in her best posh accent. “Sam, where is the Stevenson report from last week?” 

Sam fumbled through the papers, pushing up their glasses. “Right ‘ere, sir!” Annie heavy sighed, clearly not amused. 

“Sam, this is just unacceptable! Where is Janice from accounting?!” Gi yelped, slamming the paper back on top of the binder. Sam coughed back a laugh and Annie scowled. 

“Janice? Really, Gi? Been watching all those American shows on Netflix again, I see,” she grumbled, taking the papers back from Sam and Gi and shuffling them back into her binder, closing it shut and moving to put it back in her bag. “It’s fine, I can just take a trip on my—“ 

“Oi, Annie, you’re lovely,” Gi whined, pulling the binder back on the table. Sam pushed the basket of chips aside and made room. “Only joking. Please, take us through our _marvelous_ itinerary.” 

“Yes, please,” Sam echoed, reaching out a hand to squeeze Annie’s forearm reassuringly. Their gaze met for a beat too long before Annie sighed and looked away. She flipped open the binder and Sam removed their hand, clearing their throat as they took a gulp of their pint. 

“So I was looking for places none of us have been,” Annie began. Gi and Sam shared a knowing look - Annie loved building suspense. “And, selfishly, I couldn’t handle another trip like last year. I went through so much aloe and I still have the sunburn tan lines.”

“Greece was beautiful,” Sam mused, looking off dreamily. 

“And cheap,” Gi grinned, clearing her throat and looking back at Annie. “Pray, continue.”

“Right, so we’re going to be gone the week of Easter,” Annie said. “So I thought where is the best place to go for Easter? The holy land, if you will.” She pulled out a paper from her binder, holding it away from Sam and Gi with a cocky grin. 

“Where?” Sam asked.

“Amsterdam?” Gi guessed. “Absinthe is holy.”

“Prague?” Sam chimed in. “I went to their medieval torture museum. Most holy.”

“Nah, she said somewhere we _haven’t_ been,” Gi retorted and Sam gave a nod. They jumped as Annie slapped her mystery paper on the table. 

Gi broke into giddy hysterics. “The Guinness Storehouse?!”

“That’s open on Easter?” Sam asked, then shook their head. “‘Course it is.”

“Dublin!” Annie pulled out more papers from her binder to go over her itinerary. “I thought a few days in Dublin, a trip to Cork, maybe Galway if we have time.” 

“Annie,” Sam said with a smirk. “You made a pub tour across Ireland.” 

“ _Jeeeesus_ ,” Gi said, snatching the map from Sam’s hand. “Yes! Best idea you’ve ever had. Let’s do it.” 

“How have none of us been to Ireland?” Sam mused. 

“Are you sure?” Annie asked, suddenly lacking confidence in her choice. “I mean we can do Prague or Amsterdam or even Berlin if you want! I was even looking at Vienna or Budapest!”

“No, this is a great idea,” Sam replied. 

Gi grinned, eyes scanning over the hotel options, ghost tours, and pub markers, raising her glass. “This is brilliant! Cheers, Annie.”

They all raised their glasses, Annie sheepishly holding back a smile. She flushed, looking over at Sam and snatching their empty pint glass. “I’ll buy the next round while you both look at the hotel options!” she called as she made her way to the bar. 

Sam absentmindedly grabbed a handful of chips, munching away as they started to flip through the papers. “There are some cheap Airbnb options. You’ve done that before, right?” they asked not looking up from the binder, pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose. 

Gi shifted to glance around the pub absently taking a gulp of her pint. Her eyes fell on the redhead, still lost in concentration despite the growing crowds. She now had a pen in-between her teeth, brow furrowed and fingertips hovering over her laptop keyboard. 

“Ooh, you always go for the pretty ones,” Sam’s voice cut in and Gi jumped, glancing their way to see their eyes were following Gi’s to stare at the redhead. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she caught her bottom lip between her teeth nervously, glancing back to catch the mystery woman take her phone as she continued to type with the other hand. 

“Nothing, just,” Sam cleared their throat. “Well, there was Sarah and Liam-”

“Okay, I get it,” Gi jumped in.

“- and Tom and—”

“You can stop, it’s okay,” Gi grumbled, the crowd moved to block her view of the other side of the pub. 

“And Janine,” they continued with a smirk and another swig of their pint. 

“That’s not fair,” she grumbled. She reached her hand to rummage through the basket of chips. She and Janine didn’t even date, Gi was just infatuated. She was known for falling hard and fast, but when she found Janine in her hallway the next day, leaving Liam’s room in the same clothes as the night before, Gi was devastated.

“You going to talk to her?” they continued, nudging Gi’s shoulder with their elbow. 

“No, m’here with you,” she replied stubbornly. Sam rolled their eyes, laughing and Gi became defensive. “Maybe I’m not really looking for anything right now,” she retorted, her composure faltering. 

“ _You?_ Not dating?” Sam’s jaw dropped in mock shock, the corners of their mouth turning up in a smile. 

“Piss off,” Gi grunted. 

Annie came back, putting her and Sam’s pints on the table. “What’d I miss?” 

Gi glanced back over to the other side of the pub and the crowd parted again, but the redhead was gone. How did she pack up her stuff already? Gi did a double take, eyes scanning other tables, the bar - anywhere she could have gone. She caught a glimpse of the front door swinging shut and her eyes flitted to the window to watch a flash of red rush by with her belongings tucked away in a large leather messenger bag swung over her shoulder. The woman tucked her phone in between her cheek and shoulder as both hands went to pulling out pins in her hair. And then she was gone. 

Gi looked back to see Sam and Annie staring at her. She blushed and took another gulp of her cider, rolling her shoulders back and smiling. “You didn’t miss a thing,” she assured. “Now, where were we?” 


End file.
